Leonard C Suskin's musings on writing, parenthood, and the wonderful world of commercial AV.

Friday, July 8, 2016

Flash Fiction Friday - Ambience

It's Flash Fiction
Friday again. Today we start with an image prompt from photographer AlexStoddard, leading to a quick discussion of a pre-construction report.

I'll try to be
better about posting flash fiction for those of you who like this sort of
thing.

As is often the case, writing community-builder extraordinaire Bliss Morgan started the ball rolling on this. If anyone else takes on the same prompt, you can perhaps find links to their responses here.

"Ambience"

By Leonard C Suskin

I know not to clean
it out too thoroughly. It's what sets me apart from the other guys.

Oh, I can clear'em
all out. The full Murray we call it. In my experience that's best for office
buildings. Especially government. You see, they want those places to feel a bit
dead, and if we do the full Murray, that's what you get. As dead as the arctic.
Soulless places, as if never inhabited before.

Well, there's two
problems with that. First is that too empty the place feels dead. A place with
no ghosts is to the soul what an anechoic chamber is to the ears. It feels
empty and wrong. Ask your acoustic guy if you want no echo.

Second is if we
leave the place too empty there's no telling what'll come in. I know it's an
island, but I've seen leakage from the sea. Drowning victims are unsettling,
nasty ghosts. Leave a wet, cold, scared feeling. You don't want to leave it too
empty for a drowner to come in.

Anyway, did you read
the report? What we used to have here, obviously, is a sanitarium. Most of the
people here were mentally ill. Violently so. The first section of the report
list the poltergeists, your noisy spirits. Those we need to get rid of. They're
the ones who'll bang around the pans in the kitchen and rattle the plumbing.
Yeah, even if it is new. We'll clear all of them out. I promise.

Don't worry; we're
doing them a favor. It's a kind of living death to be stuck here afterwards.
I'm not a priest, but I always figured after we cut'em loose and get 'em out
they'll go on to wherever they were supposed to go. Anyway, there's more.

The ones in the next
section seem angry. They won't manifest
as loud as the poltergeists, but might give an overall sense of unease and a
desire to be outside. We'll need to clear them out too. Especially in a hotel. You don't want to push
people to leave, right?

Then there's these
last few. These are the ones I'd keep. They're mostly quiet, and felt as if
they were waiting for something. That's why the ghosts linger sometimes. I know
unfinished business is a cliché, but sometimes a soul can get so used to waiting
for something that they keep right on doing it after they die. There's a woman
here who gives that off especially strong. You can feel it when you walk
through the shell of the old building, especially by where the windows used to
be. There's longing, a feel of heaviness, but a faint whiff of hope. The
sadness might be a little strong, but taking away the old walls will mute it.
She'll still be there, but quieter. They'll still be that longing, and just
enough melancholy will filter through to make the place feel tranquil, a bit
introspective. People will like having been there and won't know why.

Anyway, that's the
recommendation. You'll find it all in the report.

Like I said, it's
easy enough to clean 'em all out. What we do is better. The ones that remain
will be a part of what you build here, as much as the glass and stone and wood.